New Beginnings
by DaughterofLuthien
Summary: Hurtled fresh from the Time War, the TARDIS lands the shell-shocked time lord outside a bar somewhere in the continental US. A bar currently being visited by a certain hunter. Tired and war-weary, Doctor tries something new: he goes in and he has a drink


_Angsty one-shot, mostly focusing on the Doctor's guilt over the Time War and the destruction of his people. Set pre-series for both shows._

_Don't worry, I haven't given up on "Brave New World" and "Running," but remember when I said I haven't seen as many SPN episodes as I'd like? Well, I recently decided to remedy that by starting the series from the beginning, and in doing so realized that I didn't know enough about where the boy's heads were at in season three to be able to write them realistically. I've just gotten to All Hell Breaks Loose, though, so I should be where I need to be with that very soon and will be able to start on new chapters of those very shortly._

_In the mean time, have some Superwho!_

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><p>"I did something. Something I'm not proud of."<p>

After this revelation the Doctor paused, and for the first time really looked at the man beside him. He had expected him to be curious, maybe a little embarrassed. In his experience those were the types of emotions that humans normally felt when confronted with hints of a story like his own, but there was nothing like that in the youth's green eyes. Instead, he saw what he recognized immediately as understanding, coupled with a grief that had nothing to do with the Doctor's tale. This kid was something new, he realized, someone very different from any other human he had met on his travels.

He wondered what could possibly have happened during this boy's short span of years to cause him to understand pain and sacrifice as well as he so obviously did. But he wasn't a boy anymore, not really; he could see that now very clearly. The stink of blood and the passion of war had turned the boy into a man well before his time. It made everything that he had fought for just hours earlier seem so pointless…

Because he had been fighting for them, for the ordinary humans here on Earth. Well, for every ordinary, innocent life-form on every little backwater planet, actually, but he did have such a soft spot for humans. He had planned to die in battle in order to ensure that the War never came to their shores, but it hadn't worked, never mind valiant efforts and his sacrifices. Maybe they hadn't known the horrors of the Time War, but they still had their own battles to fight and still experienced the loss and the grief that always walked hand-in-hand with war. He couldn't protect them from that, and the man sitting beside him was living proof of it.

The Doctor was so lost in his own thoughts that he barely realized when his companion began to speak.

"Listen, man," the younger man began, obviously trying to offer some measure of comfort. "I'm sure you did what you had to do."

For a long while he didn't answer, but just stared at the little glass of liquor between his fingers. It was so fragile… If he tightened his grip just a bit, and applied just a few more ounces of pressure, he could crush it so easily. Of course, it had been even easier to end the lives of his people. All that had taken was a simple push of a button.

And then they were gone.

But there was one fact that he couldn't deny, one more important than all the rest. No matter how badly he wanted it forgotten, it was still there, burning like a sun in the center of his mind.

They had won. The last great Time War had ended in a victory. A terrible victory, to be sure, but a victory nonetheless.

"Yes," he responded finally. A small smile played at the corners of his eyes, though it didn't reach his lips. "Yes I did."

The other man nodded. Perhaps he would have said something else, but before he had a chance, his cell phone rang. He answered it immediately, and the Doctor noticed that his face grew even graver as he listened. When the young man noticed his fairly obvious interest in the conversation, he got up and walked a few paces away, but of course the Doctor could still hear him. Not that he was trying to eavesdrop, but the call seemed rather urgent, and eventually his curiosity got the best of him.

"No, I can't get him to pick up, either," he said quietly, then paused to listen to the person on the other. What he heard seemed to make him angry, as his next words were much louder. "No, no way I'm doing that. Look, Sammy got out. He's got a life of his own now, a better one than he ever would've had if he had stuck around. It ain't my place to drag him back in." Then he hung his head, like a man who was hearing a truth that he'd rather not have to acknowledge. "Yeah, I know. Right. Just keep trying, okay? Thanks, Bobby." With that he hung up, slipped the little device back into his pocket, and headed wordlessly for the door.

"Everything all right?"

The Doctor's words stopped him in his tracks, and he turned back around to face the strange man still seated at the bar. Almost instantly his look of worry was replaced with an easy grin. "Yeah, yeah, everything's fine," he lied breezily. "That was just… family issues."

The Time Lord caught the lie, but he didn't call him on it. The boy had a right to his secrets, after all.

"I'm Dean, by the way."

"And I'm the Doctor. Hello!" He grinned at Dean this time, his eyes crinkling with the smile.

"Right…" Dean's look showed that he thought it an odd name, but he didn't comment on it. "Well, I gotta go, Doc. You gonna be okay?"

"Don't know yet. I hope so."

"Yeah. Right." The barest of smiles turned up a corner of the young man's mouth, and suddenly that look of understanding was back again.

Strict logic dictated that since no being – whether human, time lord, or any other possible evolutionary variation – had ever done what he had done or endured what he endured, no one could truly understand what he was going through. He was as alone in his grief as he was in his race.

But 900 years of time and space had, among her many other lessons, taught him two very important things. One: that logic was never the best teacher. Had he listened to her, he would have become a hardened, cynical old man hundreds of ago, doomed to fight a losing war against fate and the innate nature of all sentient beings. And two: that it never did to underestimate a human. Impossible as it might seem in the face of the facts, this kid – in the grand scheme of the universe no older or more important than a mass of rock recently severed from an asteroid – knew how it felt to be not-all-right-yet but with the hope of all-right-in-the-future. Knew the guilt spawned by failing the ones you love.

Yet despite all this he was still young. He had his whole life ahead of him and was still desperately clinging to his so-very-human hopes and dreams.

The Doctor smiled to himself when he realized this about the man standing in front of him. And it suddenly occurred to him that there just might be hope for him yet.

"Hey, dude?" Dean stopped at the door and turned to address the Time Lord one last time. "You should find someone. Trust me, whatever you're going through, you don't need to be doing it alone."

The Doctor nodded in response, but it wasn't until Dean had gone that he noticed that, in his hurry to leave, the younger man had forgotten something.

A black leather jacket, it's shiny surface glinting even in the dim light of the room, lay neglected across the worn wood of the bar. It's owner was long gone, the rumble of his car's engine already fading into the distance, so the Doctor picked it up, feeling the material's weight in his hands. On an impulse, he pulled it on over the t-shirt he had so hurriedly grabbed following his regeneration, feeling the cool leather sliding over his arms and encasing them in warmth. It fit perfectly. A quick search of the pockets found a few crumpled dollar bills, so he placed them on the bar as payment for the drink and strode quickly away, leaving the grimy, smoke-filled place behind him.

Maybe he would find someone. Maybe he would someday be able to atone for the things he had done. Either way, it was time for him to go back to the TARDIS, back to time and space and the same old life. After that... well, not even the last Lord of Time could see that future.

Whatever happened, however, one thing was certain. Dean was going to have to find himself a new coat.

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><p><em>Please review with any comments, thoughts, criticisms, or opinions you might have! It's very helpful, and the only way I can know for sure that I got my characterization right and that it wasn't too/ angsty, etc. :)_


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